


mistletoe mayhem

by twistedsky



Series: project queer [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-11 15:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12938520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedsky/pseuds/twistedsky
Summary: In this world, mistletoe appears around the holidays. You have two choices: share an intimate truth, or a kiss. The level of your compatibility determines what kind of bad thing will happen--whether it's a paper cut or a tidal wave. Sam gets caught under the mistletoe five times.





	mistletoe mayhem

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the sixth written for Project Queer--a fic project where everyone is gay, lesbian, bi, pan, trans, ace, etc etc. 
> 
> Prompt: CACW+soulmate mistletoe

**One.**

Sam’s first kiss is at the age of fifteen, but it’s innocuous. It’s the middle of summer, and it’s a pretty girl he’s liked for months. Her name is Clara, and she likes theatre, computers, and turtles.

She’s nice.

But then he turns sixteen, and she’s his girlfriend, and he hasn’t really worried about things up until now, you know?

It’s not scientific, and it’s certainly not logical, and yet every year without fail the mistletoe appears.

In history class, they tell you that people used to put the mistletoe out to encourage people to kiss, to share in merriment and holiday spirit.

It’s hard to imagine a time when someone would do so by _choice_.

Exhibit A--there’s mistletoe on the ceiling above two girls from his English class, and they’re staring at each other while the countdown begins.

The mistletoe glows above them, trapping them for the next sixty seconds. They now have a choice. They can either share an intimate secret, or they can kiss. Either way, it’s dangerous.

Either way, the mistletoe decides if your ‘offering’ is enough, and causes a minor or major disaster.

It’s never happened to Sam before, because this is his first Mistletoe Season since he turned sixteen, so there’s just . . . never really been a chance before.

Some people get excited, because if you kiss, you can find your soulmate.

On the other hand, you might cause an avalanche, or an earthquake. If you’re lucky, maybe you get a paper cut.

The world is a dangerous place for two weeks out of every year, from December 16th-December 30th.

People stay home around the holidays, or if they’re foolish and brave, they go to parties and hope to find their soulmates.

On the other hand, Sam is sixteen, and he’s not ready for natural disasters or true love.

He watches the girls out of the corner of his eye nervously as they choose to kiss.

The mistletoe glows even brighter before fading. It looks unremarkable, like it couldn’t possibly be dangerous.

Then, the lights go out. As far as soulmate test kisses go, this isn’t so bad. There’s no such thing as a perfect match, just a spectrum of compatibility and potential.

Sam watches as the girls look at each other, both unsure of what this means.

On one hand, it’s just a little electrical problem. Maybe this means they’re as close to soulmates as you could imagine. Maybe it means they’re not. Individual determinations are all that matters, no matter what the textbooks or movies say.

He sees Clara coming down the hallway then, and she smiles, and his stomach feels tied up in happy knots.

~~

Two days later, they’re trapped under soulmate mistletoe. It’s a fickle thing--it appears when it wants to, traps you when it wants to, and heaves consequences upon you just because it can.

It doesn’t surprise Sam that people worship it as if it’s from the gods.

And so here they are--Sam and Clara, trapped under the mistletoe, time ticking away.

Clara shrugs, like it doesn’t matter too much, but she seems twitchy, and Sam knows that she’s as nervous as he is.

They could try to share secrets, but since they’re already together they might as well kiss.

Sam nods at Clara, and she leans in slightly, and they press their lips together.

This is a high school romance, and the likelihood that they’re meant to be is low, and yet--Clara is the first girl he kissed, and the first he might love besides his family.

And then--this is not calm. This is not a paper cut, or even falling into a huge hole that seems to appear out of nowhere.

This is an earthquake. Lights in the school hallway fall, and there’s a crack in the wall. A bookshelf falls over and breaks a window.

That’s the end of Sam and Clara. They date for another month and a half, but there’s a hesitancy now that’s not borne of youth. It comes from fear, and eventually it sours things between them.

~~

**Two.**

Sam kisses Riley.

Riley is his best friend, and his wingbrother. He’s a lot of things to Sam, maybe even some things he’s never really wanted to dissect before.

And yet, he loves him. He’s never examined that love too closely, because they’re friends and brothers, and maybe there’s something a little scary and sad about being in love with your best friend.

Sam’s okay at romantic relationships--he dates a little, but nothing that makes his heart race.

Today, he kisses Riley, because there’s mistletoe above him, and Riley sort of dares him to, instead of giving up an intimate truth.

The truth he’d have to divulge would have to be big, and the only thing he can think of is this anyway--his lips pressed to Riley’s, his hands in his hair, and that good, solid ache in his heart that only happens before a fall.

Sam soars.

Riley pulls away and looks around, waiting for the damage.

Here is the thing that hurts the most--the damage is minimal. Riley looks around and accidentally whacks his arm into the wall. It doesn’t even hurt too bad, doesn’t even bruise.

Riley looks up at him in surprise, and Sam’s not sure what to say.

Yet, unlike with Clara, today is not an ending. It’s a beginning.

This is almost enough to make him believe in soulmates, and love, and happily ever afters.

~~

The day that Riley dies, Sam thinks he’s lost more than a part of himself. He’s lost the part that makes flight feel light.

Now, it feels heavy, like the world is bearing down upon him, and he can’t stop it.

When he stands at Riley’s funeral, when he gives Riley’s mother his condolences, when he cries afterward alone, he learns the cruelty of soulmates.

Nothing in life lasts.

He thinks it might be time to leave the military, before he loses anything else.

~~

**Three.**

Natasha is gorgeous. She’s a little scary, and she’s probably one of the strongest people he’s ever met.

“Are you afraid of a little kiss?” she asks nonchalantly. Truthfully? Yes. He is afraid.

“I’ll give you a secret,” he says instead of answering her. He doesn’t need to.

The change in Natasha is immediate. She’s a little less cloying, and she nods her understanding.

“When I was a child, I was a ballerina. I’ve never forgotten how to dance, but I’ll never love it,” she tells him, and it’s heavy in the air with a meaning more than the words themselves.

The clock ticks away, and Sam searches for a secret. He’s told plenty over the years, and shared kisses from time to time. Not as many since Riley.

Sam looks over at the others, who are pretending not to pay attention, because this is a deeply personal moment. Steve is studiously staring down at dinner, and Natasha’s girlfriend Sharon is just sipping her glass of wine. Bucky is flipping through a magazine, because apparently he likes interior design. Sam hates him a little for this, because it’s his magazine, and Bucky is somehow miraculously going to abscond with it.

Sam is trying not to worry about the time. If he doesn’t give the mistletoe and Natasha something meaningful, there’ll probably be a hurricane.

He keeps his voice low. “I love flying,” he says. “But sometimes I don’t think I’ll ever be happy doing it again.” It might not be enough of a secret, but it matters to him.

He looks over now at Steve, who is staring at the mistletoe above Sam and Natasha’s heads as it glows brightly.

He looks angry, and it’s an anger that Sam shares.

He hates what control it has over them, and he doesn’t understand the point.

Natasha puts a hand on Sam’s arm in solidarity, and the glowing of the mistletoe ceases now.

“We’re going to have to go out,” Steve says now, and his friendly dinner is ruined now. “It’s all burned,” he says, and Sam looks over.

Dinner wasn’t supposed to be done for another twenty minutes.

“Pizza sounds good,” he says. They’re getting off relatively easy, and he’ll take that.

~~

**Four.**

Sam has . . . complicated feelings about Bucky. He knows the history between him and Steve, and maybe he even understands what he’s been through. There’s an odd sort of kinship between them, something he can’t quite describe.

They’re teammates, and maybe even friends, but Sam doesn’t know that either of them would articulate it that way.

Sam eats his ice cream in the apartment in Wakanda that Bucky stays in while he tries to break the mental triggers placed in him.

“Can you pass me the chocolate syrup?” he asks Bucky.

“No,” Bucky says, even though it’s two inches away from his hand.

Despite this, Bucky picks up the chocolate and squirts it onto his own ice cream. Then he puts it down on the other side of the table, close to Sam.

Sam really hates him sometimes.

Sam takes the chocolate and fights an eyeroll.

“How are things with T’Challa?” Sam asks.

“Fine,” Bucky says, shrugging.

They sit there awkwardly for another five minutes without a word. Eventually Steve will return from the palace with T’Challa, and put an end to the awkwardness.

In the meantime--

“How’s therapy?” Sam asks eventually. “Is it helping?” This at least is something that he understands.

“I hope so,” Bucky says. Bucky looks mildly uncomfortable, so Sam doesn’t press. “How are you and Steve?”

“We’re good,” Sam says. “Or--” he sighs, looking down at his now-empty bowl. “It’s rough, as expected.”

When Sam looks back up, there’s a pained look on Bucky’s face, and Sam’s pretty sure he’s blaming himself for that. And yeah, there’s no way that Steve would turn his back on Bucky, but there’s a lot more to the choices that Steve made. That they all made.

“It’ll get better,” Sam says. “We’re working on it. We can do a lot of good from behind the scenes. Steve’s a great Captain America, but he’s a good man too. He’ll always find a way.”

Bucky smiles slightly. “Always has been.”

Sam smiles backs, and then looks around Bucky’s apartment. “I see you’re not decorating for the holidays.”

“Haven’t celebrated in a while,” Bucky says wryly. “T’Challa wanted to help me, but--” Bucky looks a little nervous, and if Sam believed him capable of it, he’d think he’s blushing, just a little.

“You should let him,” Sam says. He could certainly use a little cheer. This isn’t exactly his favorite time of year, and they’re already nearing the worst time of all: the mistletoe will appear soon.

~~

Sam fucking hates mistletoe, okay?

It’s an intense sort of feeling, but it’s appropriate. It’s horrible, and not in an inane sort of way like traffic jams or getting lemon juice on a paper cut.

It reminds him of the worst things in his life--from the romantic troubles to the unfortunate dramatic disasters.

Right now, at this very moment, he is standing uncomfortably under mistletoe with Bucky Barnes, of all people.

Wanda is looking on with interest, and Steve looks uncomfortable. T’Challa looks conflicted, and Sam’s starting to think Bucky’s weird version of a crush isn’t so one-sided. Considering their history, that's going to be one complicated courtship.

“I don’t really want to kiss you,” Bucky says, and he almost sounds amused. “But I can’t give you a secret right now,” he says a bit more somberly, and Sam oddly enough feels the same way.

Because they’re both ridiculous, the kiss is a little longer than a peck, and a little melodramatic, with flair and panache--Sam dips Bucky as if they’re doing a romantic dance, and when it’s over they laugh.

It helps decrease the tension a bit.

Sam’s expecting fire, or maybe an earthquake. Maybe someone falls in a really deep hole and gets stuck, and has to live through the plot of 127 hours.

The building collapses on them--okay, it doesn’t, and Sam’s got a wild imagination.

He turns towards the table the wine is on and stubs his toe on a chair. “Ouch!” he hisses, and he hears it echoed by Bucky, who just hit his shin on a side table. He’s glowering at it now, and Sam can’t help but laugh.

~~

**Five.**

The first day Sam saw Steve, he knew he was Captain America.

It’s hard not to, when he runs wildly fast and _looks_ like a damn superhero.

It’s been a couple years since then, and Steve is a lot more than that.

Sam’s pretty sure he’s in love with him. He hasn't said anything because he’s also pretty sure he’s not ready, even if it’s a mutual sort of thing, which Sam thinks(hopes) it might be.

But now things have eased up, and after the last battle for the future of the universe(apparently fighting to save the earth was a little too easy for these guys), the Avengers team has forged a peace. Things are different now, but they’re going to do better.

Sam thinks it might be time to say something, to see what this might be between them.

Tony’s throwing a party, and Sam’s just standing as far away from people as possible. He waves hello, and then wanders off.

He watches Tony head over to Pepper and Rhodey, and they play the fun hosts. Some people are talking, and some are dancing.

And then, Sam sees Steve.

Steve brings him a drink, and sits down next to him on a pretty comfortable couch near the windows.

“Having fun yet?” Steve asks dryly.

Sam smiles. “Clearly.”

Sam’s feeling just fine until he feels it. There’s a weird sensation that comes over you when the glow appears, and the soulmate mistletoe appears out of nowhere.

Steve bites his lip, and looks like he wants to say something.

Sam wants to kiss him, but--it feels wrong to do it like this.

“I have feelings for you,” he blurts out instead.

Steve blinks at him for a second, processing his words. “I--I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you,” Steve admits.

The glowing stops, but Sam doesn’t notice. He leans forward and kisses Steve, and doesn’t even think about the consequences.

A glass breaks a few feet away, but Sam doesn’t notice.

He pulls away, and leans his head against Steve’s, and laughs. Steve reaches out and takes his hand, and it fills Sam with a warm glow.

He still hates the mistletoe, but Steve is here, and they’re holding hands, and Sam’s not exactly mad about that.


End file.
